


The Warmth

by wildwordwomyn



Category: Leverage
Genre: Claustrophobia, Dysfunctional Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwordwomyn/pseuds/wildwordwomyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What starts out as a nightmare leads to a dreamy kiss...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Slight spoilers for "The Grave Danger Job". Um, I really don't know where this came from. I saw the *staringout* prompt for 11-16-2011 (#883) and this is what I wrote. Hopefully it doesn't suck...

_Dirt. Darkness. The dwindling level of oxygen and the sickeningly sweet odor of death clinging to your skin. It's hard to breathe here, hard to know how much time has passed. It could have been minutes, hours, days, and you wouldn't know. You can't see anything. All you know is you're trapped and you can't get out. It's so damn small, this space you occupy, and you're too damn big in it. You can't maneuver, can't lift your legs to kick, can't stretch your arms to punch your way out. But isn't this how it always goes? You stuck in a world of someone else's choosing, cold, alone? No one is coming to save you. God, you can't even scream for help. Every time you fill your lungs to breathe you become aware of how little air is left and yet you must keep inhaling and exhaling. The sound of your body doing what needs to be done is all you have. You have to stay alive..._

 

“Hey, hey! Hardison, wake up, damn it!” he growls into your ear. “Hardison!”

 

It's only when Eliot lays a hand on your shoulder to shake you that you blink, realize it's daylight. The sun streams through the windows of his living room, bright and warm on your face as you sit slumped on his sofa. Eliot sits next to you, his own body leaning against yours. His face is mere inches away, his eyes shadowy, concerned.

 

“You with me?” he asks, his tone softer now that you're conscious again. If you didn't know better you'd say he sounds almost tender, loving, but you do. Know better. Don't you?

 

You wipe your palms across your face roughly, trying to rid your head of feelings and images that linger from the nightmare. “Huh?”

 

“You were whimpering...” Once the older man takes stock of his proximity to you he backs closer to the other end of the sofa. “You okay, man?”

 

You smile and answer, “Yeah, El. Just not getting enough sleep is all. I'm fine.” The worried expression on his face doesn't change. He saw right through your weak words and that smile was half-hearted at best.

 

“Right...” He lets it go. Standing, he starts to walk to the kitchen. “Don't ask, don't tell. I get it.” If anyone does, though, it's Eliot.

 

For the next hour you help the hitter pull weeds out of his vegetable garden and tend to his overgrown tomato plant. You try not to think of how claustrophobic the dream had made you feel, reminding yourself that you're outside in the open. Eliot's here, which means you're free, safe. You're okay. But it still haunts you.

 

Back inside the apartment Eliot prepares dinner while you watch from a stool on the other side of the island. You can tell the man is stealing looks at you and wondering what's going on. Thankfully he doesn't pry. You finally break during a moment when Eliot turns to add some fresh thyme to a pot of soup simmering on the stove.

 

“I was in a dark place. In my dream, I mean. Dark and cold and really, really small.” When Eliot turns back around his face is calm so you continue. “Before I was sent to Nana's there was a foster family I stayed with. The, uh, father, wasn't very nice to me.” It's a gross understatement compared to how that man had treated you but you can't say out loud what he really did. No matter how much you want to. “I ain't good in small spaces, man. I just...I ain't good in 'em.” You raise your head to look into Eliot's eyes.

 

For the first time Eliot Spencer is speechless. You wait for a kind word or maybe a gruff word, or, hell, a grunt even. The older man says nothing. You drop your gaze, afraid you've said too much now. There are things the team doesn't know about you, things you won't even speak of on your deathbed. And yet you'd wanted to tell Eliot at least a little. Why, you have no idea. Maybe because you're pretty sure he'd be able to relate. Or maybe not. Eliot is still silent.

 

“Forget I said anything. I'm just tired.”

 

“Tired, huh? Is that why you didn't look me in the eye when you said that?” You blink, shaking your head. "Hardison...” You retreat inside yourself, feeling like a fool for saying anything at all. “Alec, look at me,” the hitter commands.

 

Never having heard your given name out of Eliot's mouth before, you immediately look back up, surprise widening your eyes. The surprise morphs into shock as Eliot grabs your face with his hands and pulls you forward to kiss you gently on the lips. The kiss lasts only for a few seconds and Eliot's lips are chapped and dry but by the time he lets go you almost land on the floor instead of your stool.

 

“Dude! What was that?!” you squeak, your voice cracking annoyingly.

 

“Never again,” Eliot states firmly in such a way that you can't help believing that he'll never let you be trapped in a place like that again. Not as long as the hitter's around. It still doesn't explain what just happened. “And don't ever call me dude.”

 

Knowing Eliot's talent for cryptic explanations or denial you leave it alone. You eat dinner, bragging about different jobs you've pulled. Neither acknowledge the elephant in the room. However, every once in a while you catch him watching your lips while you talk and can't stop the grin that spreads across your face.

 

It doesn't occur to you until later when you're home alone that Eliot had made you forget all about your nightmare.


End file.
